Whimsically Ginny

Chapter One: Not Forgiven, Never Forgotten

The red-haired, pale girl of eleven dangled limply from Tom's material, physical grasp, colour drained from her cheeks and lips. Her eyelids fluttered continuously: keeping conscious was now a difficulty.

"Tell me, Ginny...do you love me? Hate me?" A faint smile played and cajoled on Tom's lips. It pleased him that he could feel the fresh, real blood running in his lips, it jolted him with its reality - his reality.

The girl did not answer him, her eyes closed now, deceptively serene. Her head was starting to loll backwards, as if it was too hard an effort for her to keep her head upright.

Perhaps it was.

"Ginny..." Tom's lips were twisted into a malicious, cruel smile. "Tell me."

The girl's eyelids seemed to be fighting to reopen, and Tom waited patiently - he had all the time in the world until the Potter boy arrived, as Virginia had been sure he would.

Tom scoffed. Blind faith.

The girl's eyes opened, revealing her brown eyes - the expression of which caused Tom to drop her in surprise. The girl rushed to meet the floor, her weak body falling in a heap.

Roughly, recovering somewhat from the look in her eyes, Tom snapped her face towards himself.

She still had that expression in her eyes. Tom could see the hurt, the fear, the pain, the betrayal and the sadness - weaknesses that fed his veins, but he also saw something else.

Beneath the clear hazel, was something Tom thought Virginia would never have; she had never shown it to him. There was a certain remarkable calmness, and...

She was afraid of him and yet not afraid of him - her eyes were testimony of that.

Tom stared into her unwavering eyes, which suddenly had seemed to lose its earlier quivering. She opened her mouth, lips pale and chapped.

"I pity you."

The words were soft, almost tender.

Tom pushed the girl off his arms savagely, as if wanting to be immediately rid of a disgusting, vile parasite. Again the girl tumbled to the ground, almost soundlessly, thin-worn clothes cushioning her fall.

Tom turned away, angrier than he had been in a while. The girl's eyes - her words -

Somewhere inside of him, a numb sensation of pain spliced itself through.

Strangely enough, Tom realised that he had felt a sense of betrayal because of the girl. She had betrayed what she was supposed to mean to him. What he was supposed to mean to her.

Tom's head snapped up suddenly, remembering. He bent down towards the girl, whose eyes were thankfully closed now, and tugged at the black cord just below her stained collar.

Tom could not feel the clasp.

A kind of ridiculous urgency pulsed through his mind, and his slim fingers feverishly started feeling around the length of the chord.

Still no clasp.

When he had put it on her it had had a clasp. The necklace - or more specifically, the clasp - was representative of his possession of her. Unless -

'Only when in possession of the heart...can one find the necklace's clasp.'

Only when in possession of her heart...the incantations of the spell...

All I refuse and thee I choose.

'I pity you.' Virginia had said.

~

"360 degrees...tangent theta equals sine theta over..." mumbled Ginny Weasley to herself as she effectively multi-tasked at the Weasley's dining table, her right hand feeding herself with soggy and suspiciously weird-tasting cereal, her left hand alternating between trying to keep her irregularly-cut, copper-red hair from dipping into her cereal bowl and flicking her featherless old quill (circa 1979, it had previously belonged to Charlie; its feathers had been bitten off by a pair of teething Fred and George) over her Arithmancy homework.

"Cosine theta," finished Bill Weasley as he strolled into the kitchen, grinning. "Arithmancy again?"

"Remind me why I took this in the first place, Bill," mock-growled Ginny, rolling her eyes at Bill.

Bill had sent her a long letter of advice regarding the subjects she ought to take from third year onwards; amongst which he had 'strongly encouraged' Ginny to take Arithmancy. And Runes, which was another subject which involved lengths and lengths of memorization of various rules and the runic alphabet.

"It's for your own good, Ginny dear," Bill replied flippantly, his head disappearing into the pantry door as he rummaged for food. Bill had decided to stay over at 'the old place', referring to the Burrow, for a couple of days before returning to Grimmauld Place with the rest of the family.

The rest of the family - excluding Charlie, who was still in Romania (though he was due to return in 'a few days' time', as he had written in his last letter to Ginny), and Percy, that is.

Percy still hadn't replied any of Molly Weasley's letters (she had sent them on the sly, so as not to antagonize Mr. Weasley; Fred and George, however, had of course found out somehow or another - though this time they refused to tell even Ginny and Ron how, only nodding sagely and secretively towards each other and whispering riddle-like half-hints in the most irritable manner possible.), and from the expression on Arthur Weasley's face whenever the subject of Percy was let slip, it was obvious that Percy was still ignoring him at work.

Sometimes Ginny wondered whether what Percy had said Mr. Weasley was - that he was an underachiever with no aspirations or motivation towards achieving better - had really hit home. Not that Ginny ever doubted her own father...but Ginny suspected that Mr. Weasley's pride was not the only thing that had been hurt that night when Percy had last returned home.

"Ginny, Bill, will the both of you HURRY UP!" came Mrs. Weasley's voice, "And Fred and George, will the both of you stop tormenting Ronald with those ridiculous stories of spiders long enough so he could come out of the toilet within an hour?! Ron, there are no spiders under the toilet sink! Especially not orange-striped ones!"

"Oh, the melodious song of Mum's nagging," sighed Bill in a singsong voice, taking his time to decide between half-eaten Edam cheese and weeks-old oatmeal, "how it soothes the senses..."

"Arthur, HOW MANY TIMES MUST I TELL YOU NOT TO CHARM THE KITCHEN DOOR! IF YOU WOULD ONLY OPEN IT NORMALLY FOR ONCE..."

"It wouldn't slam in my face when I try to open it myself..." recited Ginny and Bill together.

"IT WOULDN'T SLAM IN MY FACE WHEN I TRY TO OPEN IT MYSELF! Ohh..." groaned Mrs. Weasley, "when will all of you ever learn to do things properly -- "

"Without my having to scream at you all the time?" completed Ginny and Bill, both wringing their hands identically over imaginary aprons.

"Without my having to scream at you all the time?" finished Mrs. Weasley, wringing her hands over her apron, right on cue.

"It's nice to know Mum's still so reliable," said Bill in a stage whisper into Ginny's ear, and Ginny giggled.

Poor Molly Weasley's speeches were memorized inside out by all the Weasley children, and had long lost its purported effect - not that anyone was about to inform her otherwise her, though. Well, perhaps with the exception of Percy...

Percy again. Ginny sighed softly to herself, feeling slightly fed up with herself for reminding herself of the Weasley's prodigal son, yet at the same time feeling as if she rather missed Percy...Percy was never the best of sports - more likely, he was the ultimate party pooper - and he had constantly looked down his long freckled nose about anything that did not abide by any rule, but he still had certain good traits.

Or, at least, he still was her older brother.

"GINNY, WILL YOU STOP DREAMING INTO YOUR CEREAL!"

Ginny dropped her quill in a hurry, hiding her barely-controlled grin to the best of her ability by digging furiously into her cereal, Bill laughing openly as he strolled his way out to the back garden, out of Molly Weasley's firing range.

~

"Everybody in?" asked, or rather, Arthur Weasley, as the Weasleys finally managed to complete the odious task of getting out of the house together.

"Molly in the front seat next to me...Bill? Fred? George? Ron? Gin?" he nodded to each of them, doing his typical headcount; after confirming that each of them were safely (though perhaps not so much comfortably) tucked into the backseats of their new-old (well, it was new, considering they had just acquired it, but at the same time it was old, considering that it had been made more than a decade ago) Volkswagen Beetle, which Arthur Weasley had picked up whilst on 'Ministry business' (or so he claimed - Molly Weasley had cast him some rather dark, suspicious looks for days after that), he said, solemnly and gravely, "All right then."

He turned the ignition.

With a few rather loud splutters, the tiny yellow Beetle jerked violently, so that the taller Bill and Ron hit their heads painfully against the roof of the car, before starting to chug noisily along the dust-clung gravel driveway for a couple of metres - then, slowly but surely, the car pushed its way up into the bright summer sky.

"Arthur...you do know what you're doing, don't you?" asked Mrs. Weasley, after a moment, voice slightly anxious.

"Relax, Molly...if there's anything in the world that I know, it's Vogswoggle Ladybugs."

Fred, George, Ron, Ginny and Bill suppressed their laughter.

"But Arthur...are you absolutely sure about the direction we're going? Are you sure Harry's this way, Arthur? You did bring a map, did you?"

"Lovely weather, isn't it -- all blue skies, fluffy white clouds...and, er, more fluffy white clouds..."

"You didn't bring the map, Arthur?"

"I told you, Molly...I know what I'm doing! If there's anything in the world that I know, it's direction."

"Arthur, turn back. We're going to get lost again, like the last time you drove out without a map to your aunt's house at Sussex and we ended in the middle of Manchester instead..."

"Molly, I'm telling you, if there's anything in the world that I know..."

"ARTHUR, TURN BACK!"

There was a cowed silence for a heartbeat.

Then, "Mum...we know the way to Harry's," said Ron rather guilelessly, before the twins could stop him, "We got there to save him before, remember?"

Another heartbeat of cowed silence as everyone, with the exception of Bill, though he could pretty much imagine, suddenly remembered Molly Weasley's explosive reaction when she had found Ron, Fred and George trying to sneak Harry in the next morning.

Then, "Well then...I don't suppose it's much of a necessity to turn back then," said Molly Weasley sniffily, before turning back to her uncompleted, rather shapeless piece of random knitting with a vengeance.

A collective sigh of unspoken relief wafted from the driver's seat to the backseat.

~

"Erm...does anyone know how to get their attention?" asked Arthur Weasley hesitantly, as Vernon and Petunia Dursley, who were clearly visible from behind their highly polished windows, resolutely ignored the Weasleys' doorbell-ringing for the sixth time.

"We could start stripping, since, after all, we're not allowed to perform magic in Muggle territory," said Fred, who gave Molly Weasley a significant sideways glance as he did.

Fred and George had previously provided the rest of them a very tempting list of curses and jinxes to direct at the Dursleys, before Molly Weasley had sent them her famous look of death.

"Nah, we wouldn't want dear Uncle Vernon to get a nosebleed, wouldn't we?" said George, equally unhelpfully. "Though it would be so much more convenient if we could get old Gin to casually flick some Bat Bogey Hexes at those two dung brains..."

"Well, I'll suppose gallivanting around in our knickers will surfeit," said Fred.

"Surfeit enough to give dear Uncle Vernon a heart attack," replied George, nodding in a mock-thoughtful manner.

"I wonder where Harry is?" said Molly Weasley, worriedly. "Wouldn't he, at least, have showed his face to us, and opened the door?"

"Perhaps he can't hear us?" said Bill. "These Muggle contraptions," - Bill nodded in the direction of the Dursleys' ornate brass doorbell - "can never can be trusted." He added.

Ginny herself was getting more and more irritable by the minute. It was at least 35 degrees out, and she was sweating fully in her jeans and old Gryffindor polo shirt, which had belonged to Charlie (Charlie was always giving Ginny his things - as long as Ginny ever said they looked good or were cute, Charlie was bound to leave them for her on her bed the very next day). Beads of sweat dripped down her hairline, and Ginny scooped her hair up with her right hand, trying to cool her moist neck.

It did not help either that the area of Privet Drive was perhaps the most boring Ginny had ever seen or been in. Rows and rows of identical, perfectly trimmed lawns - albeit yellowed and rather dry from the heat -- fronting rows and rows of identical, perfectly kept, large and square houses. There were identical little mailboxes and identical milk boxes and identical black gates and identical driveways...it was as if the entire area was happily proclaiming its collective, cohesive thinking (in other words, their lack of any imagination thereof).

Ginny swore that she could already feel new freckles starting to pop up to the surface.

The Dursleys, cool and unaffected in their spacious living room, stared fixatedly at the tube.

Ginny couldn't stand it anymore. Feeling the old temper bubbling up her throat, Ginny pushed past Fred and George, and before Molly and Arthur Weasley could do anything about it, started screaming at the top of her thirst-impaired lungs at Vernon and Petunia.

"YOU BLOODY GITS SITTING ON YOUR BLOODY ARSES IN YOUR BLOODY UGLY MATCHING SUITS!" she yelled, and the clearly startled, if not shocked Vernon and Petunia Dursley jumped from their seats on the sofa, "You'll bloody let us in, or...or..."

"Or what, you filthy freak?" hissed Vernon, recovering somewhat and getting his humongous body towards the window, at which Petunia nodded, thin lips drawn into a straight, tight line.

"WE'LL START PERFORMING MAGIC ON YOUR BLOODY LAWN RIGHT NOW!" screamed Ginny, her left hand reaching into a jeans pocket, making to whip out her wand.

The twin looks of utter fear on Vernon and Petunia's faces were priceless.

~

"He...isn't...here," growled Vernon, enunciating each individual syllable clearly, his piggy eyes seeming to squint harder as he did, as if he were suffering from constipation. His large face was red and puffing with barely disguised anger; Petunia had a look much akin to Narcissa Malfoy's during the Quidditch World Cup - her face was screwed up in a rather fascinating manner, as if there was something rather offensive directly under it. The Dursleys had practically chased the Weasleys into the house following Ginny's open threat; already nosey neighbours from the opposite row of houses had started to peek their heads out in the direction of the Dursleys', and the Dursleys had just managed to pull the last Weasley in time before anyone had seen him (it had been Arthur Weasley - he had become captivated with the Dursleys' new surveillance camera, which he had just spotted before Ginny had screamed: he had taken to walking back and forth and sideways to see whether it would follow him). As for whether anyone had heard what Ginny had shrieked at the top of her voice, the Dursleys could only pray no one had been able to over the intense heat of the day.

"Then where is he?" asked Molly Weasley, her voice equally frigid. "We're here to..."

"Oh my, is that an air-conditioner?" came Arthur Weasley's voice, full of awe. He was gaping at the long, white contraption hanging off the wall at the end of the room. "It provides cool air, doesn't it? No wonder I thought the temperature had suddenly dropped...Amazing, simply -"

"ARTHUR!" shouted Molly Weasley sharply, and Arthur Weasley jumped, quickly turning his attention from the air-conditioner, which was humming quietly in the background, albeit reluctantly. Arthur gave a little nervous cough, and cleared his throat.

"Yes, yes, Molly..." he mumbled, then straightened his shoulders again and looked straight into Vernon Dursley's eyes. "Well, sir, we apologise for creating a commotion outside your house -" He cast a glance at Ginny, who was still scowling, "though we do insist that, er, you release Harry, I mean, for now anyway - for this summer, to us. You see, we have some work to do at a very important place, and Harry's presence would be imperative...very serious matters we're dealing with, Mr Dursley..."

"I've TOLD YOU HE ISN'T HERE!" roared Vernon Dursley, and poor Mr Weasley looked rather taken aback. "HE'S WENT TO GOODNESS KNOWS WHERE TO DO GOODNESS KNOWS WHAT!"

"Vernon, dear -- the neighbours will hear you!" whispered Petunia, pulling his arm, then, looking rather as if the sight of them were blasphemy to her eyes, she turned to the Weasleys and said, "We know nothing of where the Potter boy is. He's always running around anyway, the tramp that he is: thankfully the neighbours know we would have none of him had it not been for our kind hearts..."

Fred and George made loud retching noises; Petunia stopped her speech and stared at them, as she would view a pair of deformed Flobberworms.

"It's not our business anyway, whatever the boy comes to," scowled Vernon, the volume of his voice lowered but the puffiness of his face no less receding, "he's never going to come to any good, mixing with your sort...not that he was any better before that, idle, ill-behaved ingrate..."

Ron made a low noise at the back of his throat, his fists clenching. Bill placed a restraining hand on his shoulder, and Ginny stepped next to him, just in case.

"Well, would you allow us to collect his things first, then? At least when we find him, we'll be able to leave as quickly as possible," said Molly Weasley, her voice icier than ever.

The Dursleys glanced at each other, then, casting suspicious looks at the Weasleys, they nodded slowly. Jerking his head curtly towards the direction of the stairs, Vernon Dursley led the way, closely followed by Petunia Dursley, then the Weasleys.

~

Five minutes later, the Weasleys had quickly gotten Harry's things and Hedwig down, and were piling them in the car; Hedwig hooted in a slightly forlorn manner, looking rather cramped in her cage - Bill opened it and allowed her out so that she could stretch her wings.

"Where do you think Harry could be?" asked Molly worriedly, as soon as the Dursleys were out of earshot.

"Perhaps...we could split up and go find him, Mum," said Bill. "You and Dad, Fred and George and Ron, Ginny and I. We could walk around the area - Harry's probably not too far away - and we'll meet back here at eleven."

"That's a good suggestion, Bill...though I would rather Fred and George to follow me and Ron to follow Dad," remarked Mrs Weasley, and Fred and George, who, from what Ginny could see, had been obviously bursting with yet another scheme, deflated slightly at that.

Bill nodded, and glanced at Ginny, who followed him as the rest of the Weasleys split off into separate directions.

~

"When are you ever going to trim your hair, Gin?" Bill said affectionately, as he shielded his eyes from the sun with his right hand, squinting as they turned into Magnolia Road, ahead of them a large area which was what Ginny assumed would be the neighbourhood play park. "The ends are all curling haphazardly, you know."

"I like it." Said Ginny, scratching her head, then tugging at her shirt, trying to fan it out so that some of the still, heavy air around them could actually breeze through, "It's more interesting that way."

"So it's just one of those phases?"

"I do not go through phases Bill - I just make choices, like what most people do."

Bill clicked his tongue, saying, "Why, Gin...your tongue really does seem rather sharp today, doesn't it? Be more pleasant will you, little sis?"

"I'm usually pleasant until I'm awake," replied Ginny flatly.

The sun was not helping her mood.

The tall metal gates, which would have granted them access into the park, were locked.

"Reckon we should vault over those?" asked Ginny, in more normal tones. "I mean, we might as well, since we've kept our eyes peeled and still haven't seen any sign of Harry."

Bill shrugged, and then turned to grin at Ginny. "Since when did my little sister vault gates?"

"Since Percy wasn't around -" Ginny stopped in mid sentence; she had been about to joke half-heartedly that she had been doing it since Percy wasn't around to catch her, but that didn't seem quite - she wasn't sure what it was. She looked away, not wanting to meet Bill's eye. "Come on, we haven't got much time."

~

The park was as empty as the surrounding streets - and looked just as devoid of Harry as those had been. Ginny was about to tell Bill that they would probably have better luck trying some other place, when a loud, taunting voice from somewhere off caught her attention.

"So Potter...what're you doing on this bright summer morning, mooning into your shirt? Lost your girlfriend?"

Ginny started running in the direction of the voice, just as the sound of raucous laughter joined it; instinct, for some reason, was pushing her to go faster - a sinking feeling in her gut was distinctively telling her something bad was going to happen.

"Who'll want to be his girlfriend? A lamppost?" sneered another voice.

"A poodle!" yelped yet another, higher-pitched and more gnawing on the ears than the first two's.

"Nah...'ickle Harry's lost a boyfriend, haven't you, Harry?" this last voice was slow and very familiar. Ginny froze as she realised who its owner was - and what its owner probably knew... Dudley Dursley's voice turned grotesque as he tried to mimic a high, quivering tone, presumably his interpretation of how Harry would have sounded - "Sirius, Sirius, I'm soooorry..."

"Take that back." Harry's voice. Ginny had reached them by now - she saw a group of boys surrounding Harry, who was looking apparently nonchalant as he swung on a swing. Bill stopped shortly behind her, quiet. Neither Harry nor the boys seemed to have noticed their arrival. Ginny recognized the edge in Harry's voice - it had been present when they had faced the Death Eaters last term in the Department of Mysteries.

"Oooh...our little boy's angry, he is," mocked the boy with the high-pitched voice. He was a skinny, mean-eyed and sallow-skinned fellow. On his left was Dudley Dursley, and on his other side was a tall, tough-looking boy with spiked hair, who in turn was standing next to a shorter, stockier youth who had pimples the size of craters spread across his face.

"Want us to give you a hand in your attitude, Potter?" said the spiked-haired boy, his voice Ginny recognized to be the one that had said that only a lamppost would date Harry; meaning that it must have been the last boy who had first confronted Harry.

"Want me to give you a hand in helping you to get a life?" retorted Harry, who had stopped swinging now, and was staring straight at the boy.

"Now, now...even if you had been dumped by Sirius it doesn't mean you can vent your anger on us, you know," said the stocky boy.

Harry was up in a flash, clenching and unclenching his fists. "You will stop talking about Sirius now, Wells." His voice was soft, but the threatening tone to it was apparent now.

Bill leaned down to Ginny. "Should we interfere now?" he whispered.

Ginny shook her head no.

"And what if I want to talk about Sirius, Potter? Why don't you tell us -"

Before the stocky boy could complete his sentence, Harry had grabbed at him, punching him at the same time. The other boys looked alarmed for a second, and then hastened to help their friend, who was struggling; Harry kicked at his shin, fighting him tooth and nail, hanging onto him and refusing to let go. Dudley pulled at him, finally detaching him after tugging his waist - Harry then turned on Dudley, and he fought as if it were the end of the world...

Maybe for Harry it was.

"Ginny...if he goes on like this he's not going to come out in one piece." Bill's voice betrayed his anxiety.

Ginny shook her head, muttering, "Harry needs it."

They say that if you care for someone you can feel their pain.

She could see it in his eyes. At each punch Harry threw -- all the pent-up frustration, all the anger: Harry needed to let it go in this savagery. Ginny could see something she had never before seen in Harry's eyes - she saw viciousness, the desire to hurt - really hurt.

Because Harry saw no way he could do it to his true enemies, or no way which he could really leave any scars on others the way others had left scars on him - not Voldemort's curse which had led to the scar on his forehead, but the scars which were still bleeding in his heart.

If beating his cousin and his cronies up could help Harry release something, if Harry getting beaten up could give him something, then so be it. It was not Ginny or Bill's business to interfere: they could not.

Ron had once told Ginny that in the Shrieking Shack, Harry had prevented Sirius from killing Wormtail, or Peter Pettigrew.

Ginny knew that they could only bring Harry back when this was over: if Harry couldn't learn to let go, he had to learn it sooner or later by himself.

Now Ginny knew that there existed in Harry's soul, which had always been kind, a certain emptiness - a void that possibly not even Ron or Hermione could start to try to fill.

So Ginny decided to wait, and she told Bill so.

"If it's just to preserve his pride..." Bill started.

Ginny shook her head. "No, Bill."

"Then why -"

"Because if he needs to lose control, he'll have to do it now, Bill. Because where we're taking him back to, everyone will need him to help them. Harry isn't just a person to some. He's -"

"He's our hope," finished Bill.

Ginny nodded, and suddenly a wave of emotions hit her painfully. Everything was different now; she had forgotten too easily.

Any sense of security, all the false cheeriness she had shared with her family, what everyone had been used to - it was all an ice-thin façade barely spread over what was to come. Watching Harry struck that into Ginny.

She had forgotten that this was no more a game.

Because Harry has changed, because his heart has changed.

"And in the middle of them, with filthy body, matted hair, and unwiped nose, Ralph cried for the end of innocence, the darkness of man's heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called Piggy."

Tom had read it to her, just four years ago.